Of Fences and Fencing
by plug in baby57
Summary: It turns out that running off with a master swordsman's granddaughter and returning a few years later, after a delightful/drunken interlude in Mexico, when she is visibly pregnant is not a great idea. Mr Benson/Mrs Benson.


Matthew Benson was a good fencer. Peter Benson (no relation) was also a good fencer. Unfortunately for Matthew the type of fencing that he specialised in was the kind that stopped livestock from wandering off, surrounded inner city basketball courts or lined a front yard. The fencing that Peter was good at included swords and wielding them in a potentially dangerous manner.

There had always been a certain animosity between their families. Matthew had come from a long line of fence builders. It's more accurate to say he came from a line of three fence builders but Matthew's great great grandfather fought grizzly bears on the streets of New York for money after immigrating from Ireland, so it was a pretty long shot for there to be a line at all.

Alas, the blood of that brave but stupid Irishman had been diluted over the generations. His ancestor would have laughed at being attacked by a man with a sword but Matthew, having never faced nature's mauling factory in hand to hand combat, was experiencing bowel-exploding terror. Peter's family were circus people who came and settled down in the same town as Matthew's family and didn't take well to not being the only Fencin' Bensons in the area.

Peter was standing above Matthew as he lay on the floor, wielding his sabre menacingly. Had he not been gripped by the crippling hand of fear that came with staring down the barrel of a loaded sword, he would have been embarrassed that he'd been caught by such an old man. Peter was younger then he looked but seeing as Time itself had apparently defecated all over him, that didn't mean much. It was at that moment that Matthew realised he should have tried to avoid pissing off a retired sword fighter.

She had been practising fencing in the yard as he worked on the fence of the yard next door. She was Peter's granddaughter, the somewhat beautiful Marissa. Their eyes met when she removed her fencing mask and they both felt an atomic bomb of lust detonating in their pants. Matthew was currently experiencing the fallout of that bomb in the form of her grandfather's sabre. Matthew's father hadn't taken it well either, in the only ever documented case of someone dying of outrage.

Of course, it hadn't helped matters that the two had angered their families and run off to Canada together, almost run over a moose, then turned around drove all the way through the US to Mexico, lived there for a year, drunk a lot of Tequila, gotten married, moved back to the US for two years, before returning to their home town with Marissa heavily pregnant. Looking back, Matthew might have said it almost seemed like they were actively trying to piss off her grandfather. He wasn't going to get the chance though, with the sabre pushed hard against his throat.

He still had the blood of an Irish bear fighter in him though, and some barbed wire from that farm he'd built a fence around the week before. He slowly wrapped it around his fist as Peter raved about the injustice of his granddaughter being stolen from him, planning to deliver one of the most painful groin attacks of all time, even if he wasn't going to survive.

**--A/N--**

**This is my entry for the 5_4_3_2 Mystery Parents challenge on LJ. I had to cut a good fifty words from this to get it under the word limit, although many of them were contained in a joke where I detailed the line of fence builders in a way that made it seem like it was many people when in fact I was just referring to the same ones in different ways. It's probably for the best because that was pretty much straight from The IT Crowd. Anyway this idea formulated somewhere and I, being lazy, tried to pass it on to someone else but no one wanted it. So I went mental with bear fighting Irishmen and finally managed to use nuclear weapons as a metaphor for lust, that being possibly the very first idea for fanfiction that I came up with. When I get around to continuing iHate Sport, I'll probably reuse that but in a better way. Anyways, I've been reading too many Marvel Comics lately (which is where I got the names Matthew and Peter) and playing Brutal Legend, possibly the best game of all time, by which I mean this month. And yeah, happy trails and all that. I has shit to be doing.  
**


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